Mated To The Barbarian King Who Is My Ex-husband's Father.

Chapter 6: Let’s Do This...Forever And Ever.

She was dressed as his bride, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. Werewolves had a different way of organising their weddings and, with the fact that these ones were barbarians, it was going to be totally different... especially compared to what she had once envisioned for her own wedding. And it was all because of that fucking bastard Ethan.

Even in this difficult moment, Arianna smiled, knowing this was a step towards ruining him. Tonight, she was going to ask the king to call his son back home.

Ethan hated it down here in the North, and bringing him back to live here would make him miserable.

"The bride is coming," Aunt Freya announced, and the people began to howl.

Arianna got startled. The noise was nothing like she expected, but the scene left her speechless. The wedding wasn’t happening in a hall but outside, and there was a huge fire, like a bonfire night, with people circling it, dancing.

They were dressed in their best, so Aunt Freya had said, but Arianna couldn’t see much difference from what they wore in the morning. Some had white powder on their faces and tattoos... others red.

"See, my lady, there are just six women while the rest of the population of about two hundred people are men," Maria said, walking slowly behind the princess as she whispered. "Something is definitely wrong."

"You shouldn’t talk about these people now. They are wolves, and they have sharp senses."

"Oh, I forgot."

Arianna walked to the altar and was ushered onto a bench. Opposite her was another bench where her future husband sat. For the first time, she got a good view of him, even though fear still sat heavy in her chest.

His hair was as black as charcoal... healthy, thick, almost wild.

There were marks of cuts and scars on the visible parts of his body. Arianna wondered what could have given him so many scars. It was unfortunate that she couldn’t feel sorry for him, even though something deep inside her wanted to.

What if the scars were given by his victims?

"The priest is here," Aunt Freya said, turning toward the direction where an old man was approaching. It was easy to tell he was the oldest man there tonight. He could barely move, yet he still insisted on officiating the wedding.

"Where is the bride?" the man asked.

Arianna chuckled as she looked up, wondering what was wrong with him. She was dressed in a red gown, beautifully embroidered, a veil covering her face, yet he couldn’t recognise her.

"It’s obviously me. Why are you still asking?"

Everything went quiet.

Aunt Freya froze. So did the others. It was obvious she didn’t like the answer Arianna had given.

The princess wished she had said nothing at all. Now everyone was staring at her. Even the guards. Even the wolves. Except the king, who sat back, watching the flames as if none of this concerned him. It was clear he was bored of everything... including her.

"Do you think what you said was funny?" Aunt Freya asked, annoyance sharp on her face.

Before Arianna could respond, laughter came from the other side.

It was the king.

Her brows knitted in confusion. Why did he have to make it worse?

"Your Majesty?" Aunt Freya’s voice tightened, unsure of what had just happened.

"What the princess said was funny. I found it funny," King Kane said simply, not giving anyone room to argue. Then he lifted a hand toward the priest. "Begin the ritual."

No one dared to object.

The old priest stepped forward, then slowly retreated into chanting in a strange language Arianna couldn’t understand. The sound curled through the air like smoke, heavy and unfamiliar.

Arianna still didn’t understand why the king had taken her side instead of scolding her for disrespecting the priest. Aunt Freya clearly wasn’t pleased, but she didn’t dare challenge him.

The king rose.

His gaze landed on his bride.

He expected her to stand.

She didn’t.

Aunt Freya immediately tapped her lightly. "Go. Move to his side now."

"The ritual of becoming one," she whispered urgently. "You move to his side now. If your family were here, it would have been easier... you would have left their side and joined ours, becoming Northern from this moment onward."

Arianna’s legs felt heavy, like the ground itself was trying to hold her back, like it wanted her to change her mind.

But she didn’t.

It was too late for that.

Whatever was keeping her here... she would use it. Whatever it took, she would see it through. Her revenge was still alive beneath her calm face.

She stepped forward.

Standing before him, she suddenly felt small... like a chick standing before a lion. He wasn’t just a man. He was massive, carved from something harder than flesh and bone. One wrong move and he could swallow the space between them without effort.

Arianna’s breath caught.

Her thoughts betrayed her.

If he was this huge... then what would he feel like up close? Too close? Against her? Would she even be able to take him all in—

She stopped herself sharply, heat rushing to her face beneath the veil.

What was wrong with her thoughts?

"Look at me," the king said in a low tone, interrupting her wild thoughts.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to look up at him. The vein in her neck tightened as she fought not to melt under his gaze.

Arianna still found it impossible to believe she was standing in front of the most talked-about man in the world. The devil himself.

"I said look at me," the king repeated, this time louder.

The priest stopped chanting, as if sensing a shift in the air, waiting to see if the bride would falter. But neither of them spoke. So he continued.

Slowly, Arianna lifted her green eyes to meet his.

A wave of heat washed through her body—part fear, part something far more dangerous.

Even though she was scared of him, she couldn’t deny one thing.

He was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen.

A shame, really... that he was said to be a devil.

"If you are so scared of me, then why are you marrying me?" Kane asked. His voice was low, meant only for her ears.

"I wanted to walk side by side with the devil... me and you," she joked.

His brows furrowed immediately. His jaw tightened. He didn’t explode, but the silence that followed felt heavier than anger itself.

Arianna quickly let out a light, awkward laugh, correcting herself.

"I’m not scared of you, King Kane. Never will be."

He studied her for a moment before speaking again.

"Then prove it to me."

"Pass the knife," the priest instructed.

Cassuis stepped forward, holding a sharp blade on a plate. The priest took it without hesitation.

Arianna frowned.

How did they bring out a knife so quickly?

This was a wedding, not a war zone.

Unless...

Was that what they do here? Sacrifice brides?

Her stomach tightened.

The priest suddenly took the king’s hand instead, slicing the blade across his palm. Blood welled instantly, and he squeezed it into a bowl without a single change in expression.

He murmured strange words, then turned toward the princess.

Arianna immediately stepped back.

"I am not doing this shit," she blurted.

King Kane wasn’t surprised. Not even a flicker of reaction crossed his face.

"Humans feel pain more than werewolves," he said calmly. "It will be a light cut. I promised there will be a healer to attend to you immediately."

"Its still going to be painful," she muttered.

"The wedding can’t go on without it," Aunt Freya chimed in.

Arianna watched the king’s expression carefully. He looked so sure she was going to back out that it irritated her more than the pain itself.

"Fine. Let’s make the cut a light one then. If it’s not, the king will be the one to take care of my wound."

He didn’t say a word, but she could have sworn she saw something like amusement flicker in his blue eyes.

The cut wasn’t deep.

But it felt like needles were being driven straight into her palm.

She clenched her jaw, refusing to make a sound as the blood was collected into a bowl. The priest quickly rubbed a green substance onto her skin, and the sting faded almost immediately.

A healer’s work... or something stranger.

The bowl was handed to her first.

She hesitated only a second before taking a sip, just as instructed.

Then it was passed to the king.

Arianna didn’t complain. She simply did what she was told, heart still racing.

"Princess Arianna, do you agree to marry him?" the priest asked.

"Yes, I do," Arianna said immediately.

She didn’t wait for another word.

She stepped forward and pressed her lips to the king’s.

The world froze.

Silence dropped so hard it felt like the air itself had died.

The king went still.

Everyone did.

Even the priest stood there with his mouth slightly open, as if his soul had briefly left his body.

Arianna pulled back just enough to look at him, her voice steady even as her heart pounded "That is the proof you asked for earlier."

For a moment, there was nothing.

No reaction from the king. No anger. No approval. Just that unreadable stillness that made her stomach tighten.

She had overstepped. She knew it.

Aunt Freya finally broke the silence "Kane is yet to take his vow."

"She is in such a hurry," Ragnar added under his breath.

Arianna’s face burned. A cold shiver ran down her spine as it fully hit her—she had just kissed him and forgotten the entire ritual wasn’t finished.

Before she could recover, she was suddenly lifted off her feet.

A small gasp escaped her. The king had her in his arms like it was nothing.

"Okay, princess," he said, his voice low. "Let’s do this... forever and ever."

Her grip tightened instinctively on his shoulders.

And then she saw it.

That look in his eyes.

Dark. Dangerous. Controlled.

Not anger.

Something far worse.

Something that made her breath catch without warning.

"The wedding is over," the king announced.

Without another word, he began walking toward his tent.

It hit her then—hard and unmistakable.

This wasn’t the end of anything.

It was the beginning.

And she was now expected to follow him into it.

"Fuck me for thinking like a fool," she cursed under her breath. "I started this shit."